rse. A charming letter to Robert
was the result. It ended with, "Do send me a photograph of your lovely
wife!" When the poor "model" died, not many years afterwards, leaving
one little daughter, Mrs. Gallilee implored her brother to return to
England. "Come, dearest Robert, and find consolation and a home, under
the roof of your affectionate Maria."

But Robert remained in Italy, and was buried in Italy. At the date of
his death, he had three times paid his elder sister's debts. On
every occasion when he helped her in this liberal way, she proved her
gratitude by anticipating a larger, and a larger, and a larger legacy if
she outlived him.

Knowing (as the family lawyer) what sums of money Mrs. Gallilee had
extracted from her brother, Mr. Mool also knew that the advances thus
made had been considered as representing the legacy, to which she might
otherwise have had some sisterly claim. It was his duty to have warned
her of this, when she questioned him generally on the subject of the
Will; and he had said nothing about it, acting under a most unbecoming
motive--in plain words, the motive of fear. From the self-reproachful
feeling that now disturbed him, had risen that wonderful blush which
made its appearance on Mr. Mool's countenance. He was actually ashamed
of himself. After all, is it too much to have suggested that he was a
human anomaly on the roll of attorneys?

CHAPTER VIII.

Mrs. Gallilee made her appearance in the library--and Mr. Mool's
pulse accelerated its beat. Mrs. Gallilee's son followed her into the
room--and Mr. Mool's pulse steadied itself again. By special arrangement
with the lawyer, Ovid had been always kept in ignorance of his mother's
affairs. No matter how angry she might be in the course of the next few
minutes, she could hardly express her indignation in the presence of her
son.

Joyous anticipation has the happiest effect on female beauty. Mrs.
Gallilee looked remarkably well, that day. Having rather a round and
full face, she wore her hair (coloured from youthful nature) in a fringe
across her forehead, balanced on either side by clusters of charming
little curls. Her mourning for Robert was worthy of its Parisian origin;
it showed to perfect advantage the bloom of her complexion and the
whiteness of her neck--also worthy of their Parisian origin. She looked
like a portrait of the period of Charles the Second, endowed with life.

"And how do you do, Mr. Mool? Have you been lookin